


Signs of Affection (Goldgraves Drabble Collection)

by Drachenfee



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, a first kiss, angstfree, finding Graves after Grindelwald, mention of spiked drink, someone is a little tipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9857747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drachenfee/pseuds/Drachenfee
Summary: This is a collection of short Goldgraves one-shots, drabbles, or answers to prompts. Rating and Tags may be subject to change. I've changed this to 'complete work', but will definitely update more drabbles here. It's just this isn't really a WIP, it's more a collecting point.Fifth Chapter:Trying to concentrate can occasionally be difficult. Especially around a certain oblivious Boss.





	1. The First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing to say for myself, except the usual... english is my second language, feel free to message/comment with any mistakes if you find them. Comments and kudos are nourishment for my inner muse :)

_Sometime after the end of the movie, Graves Family Property_

Tina gasps as the sharp thorns rip into the soft skin of her cheek. Her hands are completely scratched up. Her arms, legs, her entire body hurts from the greyish, hardened briars of roses all around the outbuilding on the Graves property she’s trying to reach.

She can see several of her fellow aurors walking around far away barns and sheds, searching for any trace of magic. The wards told them that Grindelwald had never managed to enter the great family home in the middle of the property. But he did get onto the property itself.

The building she’s trying to reach is a small cottage, far off the beaten track and so covered in old rose bushes, the other aurors decided it probably hadn’t been entered by anybody since the war of independence. But Tina is not so sure about that.

The roses fight her every step, she’s tried to vanish them, burn them, even to merely shield herself from their sharp thorns but nothing works. _A magical resistance that could be some kind of clever ward they’ve never encountered before_ , she argued. _Or the result of someone breeding magical roses and sucking at it_ , as the acting head auror told her.

She’s tired, and sweaty, her clothes are dirty and torn and she hurts all over. But she’s nearly at the door now.

“You’d better be in there, Mr. Graves, and you’d better be alive,” she grumbles, as she ducks under a large, thorny branch and squeezes past another thicket on her right.

Panting, she reaches the door, and stops for a moment to catch her breath, then she pulls out her wand and checks for magical residue. There is none. She wants to scream in frustration but instead she saves her breath to shoulder the door open.

“Lumos,” she mutters, and raises her wand to look inside the cottage. It’s a single room, musty and dank. There are ancient shelves along one wall, most of them broken. A table is in one corner, with a chair that looks so frail, that she wouldn’t sit on it for a thousand galleons. In the far back of the room, her eyes find a rusty metal ring attached to some floor boards.

She makes her way over to the trapdoor carefully, again casting several revealing spells. Nothing. With an exasperated huff she sends a patronus to one of her fellow aurors, alerting them to the fact that she’s in the cottage and about to climb into a cellar, and will send another patronus in 5 minutes assuming all’s clear.

To her relief, the trapdoor allows itself to be spelled open, sparing her the agony of lifting the heavy wooden thing on her own. There is no ladder or stairway beneath it, so she kneels on the floor and casts a second lumos, fueling this one with more magical energy. The light so close to her face blinds her for a moment, and she patiently waits till she can see past it.

There is something wrapped up in blankets in the far corner of the room.

“Mr. Graves?” she calls, readying her shield charm just in case, but there’s no reaction. She casts a _homenum revelio_ , and finds only her own life sign and a weaker one in the direction of the huddled mass under the blankets. She draws her wand hand back till it’s above the trapdoor, and suddenly the spell only shows her own life sign. _Clever_. Cursing Grindelwald under her breath, she sends her patronus for backup.

Then she casts every single revealing and tracing spell she knows for a second time, and shines her wand light into every corner of the cellar room. There is nothing there. No traps or dangers she can find. Stealing herself, knowing that backup is on the way, she sits on the edge of the trapdoor and jumps. Her feet hit the ground awkwardly, the floor more uneven than she anticipated and Tina stumbles a little. But apart from that there is no reaction to her entering the room, magical or otherwise.

She takes a calming breath and then makes her way across the room, wand held defensively, shield charm now active. There is no smell of decay; only the damp, moldy smell of the cellar. As she steps up to the pile of blankets, she sees a head of salt and pepper hair, then she notices a faint movement under the blanket. He’s breathing deeply and rhythmically.

She casts a quick _rennervate_ , but nothing happens.

Tina gently draws back the blankets, revealing Percival Graves sans suit. She can see his ribs clearly through his skin, his cheeks have the sunken in look of the half-starved and are covered in a scratchy looking beard, but he seems otherwise unharmed. She tries to cast another diagnostic spell, but the image that comes back is confused, and blurred. _Probably a potion of some sort_ , she thinks, panicky at the realization that Grindelwald might have dosed Mr. Graves with the Drought of the Living Dead. She gently reaches out her hand and brushes his tousled hair from his forehead.

“I’m here now, Mr. Graves,” she murmurs reassuringly, kneeling down beside him. “I’m here, and we’re gonna get you out of here and to the healers, and it’s all gonna be okay.”

She doesn’t know if he can hear her through the haze of whatever spell or potion is keeping him down, but she hopes he does.

A patronus informs her, that several of her fellow aurors are close to the cottage now. She sighs her relief.

“Hear that, Mr. Graves?” she asks gently running a hand over his cheek, confused by the sudden onslaught of tender feelings for her boss, “You’ll be out of here soon, now.” She quickly brushes a hand over her own cheek, mixing the dirt on her hands with the tears she can’t seem to hold back.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Graves,” she whispers, brokenly. “So sorry, I didn’t realize. I should have realized.”

The guilt is like a living thing in her chest, like a living thing with razor sharp teeth that gorges itself on her heart. And for a moment there is this odd idea that there is a way she can make this better.

She hears the voices of the aurors above her now, hears their steps as they head towards the trapdoor. For a moment, Tina bites her lips, fighting the impulse that is rising inside of her. Then she gives in and leans over Mr. Graves’ prone body. Her lips brush against his in a cautious caress. For a moment she wonders if his lips should be as cold as they are if he’s really alive. Then she feels an odd tugging sensation that seems to reach inside her, all the way into the deepest part of her soul. And then there is nothing but darkness.

*

The first thing she notices is the warm hand that is holding her own. The second thing is the sound of a voice, deep and a little husky, and filled with a warmth she hasn’t heard for a while. When her eyes blink open the ceiling of one of St. Bart’s recovery rooms swims slowly into focus.

Tina turns her head and meets the dark eyes of Mr. Graves, who is sitting by her bedside. His fingers are entwined with hers.

“Tell me, Goldstein,” he says, sternly, “How many times do I have to tell you to fight any sudden impulses you might have when in a room contaminated with dark magic?”

Her eyes widen. “What?” she asks confused, as the memories of what happened sluggishly make their way to the forefront of her mind that is still drowsy from sleeping for what must have been a long time.

He looks good. His skin a bit paler, his body a bit thinner. But all in all he looks good, recovered. He’s wearing a three-piece suit, his hair is freshly cut, the beard is gone.

“Goldstein,” he sighs, shaking his head slightly. Then he nods to their still entwined hands.

She looks down and stares at the thin golden ribbon of magic that curls around their wrists. “Did I do that?” she asks, worriedly.

“Well..., sort of,” he admits. Seeing the dismay on her face he quickly adds, “You did have help from Grindelwald, of course.”

“Is it what I think it is?” she asks, a coil of dread in her stomach making her slightly nauseous.

“Assuming you think that’s a life bond...,” he trails off.

“Shit,” she mutters, lowering her eyes that are rapidly filling with tears. “Sir, I really didn’t mean to...”

To her surprise, he doesn’t yell at her then. Even though she certainly deserves it, would welcome it even. There is an entirely new living guilt creature inside of her now.

“Of course you didn’t, Goldstein,” his voice is calm as he says it, “Look, you didn’t mean to do this, I didn’t mean to do this... we’ll figure it out.”

“If you want to yell at me, Sir, I would certainly understand,” she murmurs hesitantly.

“Oddly enough, I have very little inclination to do so. There is something else that I would very much like to do, if only to stop feeling like my magic is trying to crawl out of my skin every time I let go of your hand.”

Tina looks up at him. “What’s that, Sir?” She’s reasonably sure, she knows the answer.

He leans over her, stopping a couple of inches from her mouth. “May I?” Tina can feel his breath ghost against her cheek and lips as he asks.

She nods, eyes fluttering close as his lips gently brush against hers. The tugging sensation deep inside her heart returns for a moment and then fades away, replaced by a warmth that seems to fill every part of her. When she opens her eyes, she is blushing, and to her surprise so is he.

He smiles crookedly. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises. Then he studies her face for a moment, and runs a finger along her cheek, where the thorns scratched her on her way to the cottage. “Thanks for finding me, Goldstein.”

She smiles back at him, “You’re welcome, Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the inspiration behind this is obvious (Sleeping Beauty, anybody?), but I'd like to give a shout-out to [Kreeblim Sabs](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/6181353/Kreeblim-Sabs) over on FFN or tumblr, who recently did a series of [Disney inspired HP drabbles](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12360079/1/Disney-Inspired-Potter-Drabbles), that definitely helped in getting me to write this. You should check them out, they're great.


	2. A Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She always wonders _“Why me?”_
> 
> But she never asks because she’s frightened of what the answer might be. 
> 
> (Un-)Apologetic Goldgraves Fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as the last chapter: feel free to message/comment if you find mistakes for me to correct. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated :)

Tina can see the questions in their eyes, and a lot of the time it’s fine.

Because a lot of the time, she’s wondering herself what the answer could possibly be. She doesn’t dare ask him. Not the first time he takes her out to a fancy restaurant for dinner, not the night he has a nightmare and she ends up in his bed, not on the night several months later that finds her lying in front of the fireplace in his arms – naked and languid in the afterglow – when he summons a small box and places it in her hand, not the night before the wedding ceremony when he sneaks into her room, even though he knows he shouldn’t, because it’s bad luck.

She doesn’t find the courage to ask him when he slips past Queenie and her friends the next day, so he can kiss her an hour before the ceremony; doesn’t find the courage to ask him when he carries her over the threshold of his family home in the country; doesn’t find the courage to ask him during their wedding night – not even when he smiles, and holds her close and calls her Mrs. Graves with a wink.

She wants to ask him... wants to ask him and know the answer. Wants to be able to know what she should say to all of those people who stare at her when she walks into a ballroom on his arm, wearing a dress that she would never have been able to afford on her own.

They think _“Why her?”_ and she doesn’t mind a lot of the time, because she _always_ wonders _“Why me?”_

But she never asks because she’s frightened of what the answer might be. Oh it could be something grand, something delightful, something loving and romantic. She knows him well by now. People wouldn’t think of Percival Graves as a romantic, but it turns out that he _can_ be. But there is always that fear that he might not be able to answer, or that he might not answer quickly enough, or that the answer really might be _“You were there.”_

Because maybe that’s just it. She was _there_ , in the hospital, when he was in pain. She was _there_ , in his office when a door unexpectedly slammed and he had a panic attack. She was _there_ , in the night when he had nightmares. _She was there_. And she thinks maybe that’s the answer. Maybe that’s why it’s her. Not because of anything inherently loveable or good about her, but just because she was there at the right moment in time. There for him when he needed her most.

*

So she _never_ asks. Until one day they’re giving a garden party at the stately Graves Mansion on a glorious summer day because... well because _Seraphina_ asked – and isn’t it weird that she’s suddenly on a first name basis with Madam Seraphina Picquery, President of the MACUSA for her third term? Tina’s walking into the building looking for Percival because she needs him to speak to the string quartet that is supposed to start playing after dinner, and that is apparently missing a member. And she just reaches the door to his study which is partially open when she hears a voice. The voice of Veronica Vanderbilt, who Percival used to date, once upon a time during his Ilvermorny days. And she hears that classy, perfect, drawling voice ask the question that she has never dared ask.

“Why her, Percival?” There is a moment of silence then she continues, “It’s because she was there, isn’t it?” The contempt in her voice makes Tina flinch, and wrap her arms around herself protectively. “She was there when you _needed_ her,” Veronica sounds affronted, and a part of Tina wants to rush into the room and defend her husband, but a much bigger part of her wants to run and hide from the answer she may finally hear. “The little gold digger! You were weak, and she wrapped you around her little finger, the penniless tramp!”

There is another long moment of silence.

Then Tina hears Percival’s voice. It is icy cold, and dangerously quiet. “Get out!” he says.

“What?” asks Veronica Vanderbilt, clearly confused.

“Get. Out.” It sounds like Percival is grinding the words out through his teeth. “There is floo powder on the mantelpiece, get out of my house!” he growls the last words and his magic – always so close to the surface – makes the windows rattle.

She hears an indignant gasp, followed by quick steps moving towards the fire place, but Tina doesn’t stay to listen. Because the house, his house, always gives her away. The wards respond to her, she is his wife after all, but they do it sluggishly and they never hide her presence from Percival.

So she moves, quickly, because he already knows that she was right in front of that door, and he already knows that the door wasn’t properly closed, and he already knows that she heard everything.

She runs up the stairs, and through the hallway, and finds herself wondering why the hell she decided to run _upstairs_ , when there is no escape there and nowhere to hide. In the end she finds herself in the guest room, where she used to sleep before she and Percival became lovers. She stands there, staring out over the grounds until she hears him walk through the door, which he quietly shuts. He walks towards her, but halts some feet away, and doesn’t touch her.

They know each other so well by now, that he knows how to read her moods perfectly... or almost perfectly.

He sighs, then he says, “The first time I saw you, you were nervous. I know that now, but I didn’t know back then.”

Tina frowns in confusion, what does that have to do with anything?

“Back then I thought... well, I thought you had the biggest freaking chip on your shoulder; that you were rather arrogant for a trainee auror, that you clearly didn’t know your place and that you were overcompensating for being a woman in a man’s world and a man’s job. I didn’t like you very much, that first time we met, and I was almost convinced that first impression would turn out right.”

He pauses, thinking, still staying where he is. “But then, I saw the way you worried your lower lip with your teeth, when you thought no one was looking,” he finally says, “And it occurred to me that your haughty posture and brusque manner were just a way to hide your insecurities. You were nervous as hell, and what I thought was a chip on your shoulder, was just you trying to not let anybody see how scared you were of screwing up.”

Tina remembers that first meeting naturally, but is still unsure why he is bringing it up now.

“So I decided not to dislike you, not right then, not right off the bat, anyway,” he continues, voice low and gentle. “And I found myself watching you. Because... you were just so damn impressive. Not for a girl, but for a trainee auror, for someone so young. And because I watched you, I started to notice things about you... your warm heart and your determination to help people, how fiercely loyal and protective you are of your sister and your friends, your sense of humor, your understated beauty.”

Percival takes a couple of steps and stops beside her, eyes focused on the gardens below, as Tina tries to stop her eyes from tearing up.

“Fool that I was, I never realized that I _loved_ all of these things about you, until I was locked up in a dark, cold room with no one for company but Grindelwald. The isolation and the pain made me realize that you were the thing I missed most... loved most. He also made me realize that it would never happen, that I would never be with you, because I would die.”

She hears Percival’s voice break and turns toward him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning into him to give him strength.

“That realization,” Percival says slowly, “that moment, that was the worst moment, the worst _thing_ he did to me.”

His confession finally breaks Tina’s resolve, and tears begin to run over her cheeks.

“So when I was found, and when I was brought to the hospital, and when you were suddenly _there_ , always there.” He takes a deep breath and she feels his arms around her.

The last of the tension in her shoulders melts away, and she becomes soft and pliant. She curls her body into his warmth and wraps her arms around him, and enjoys the feeling of his husky voice rumbling through his ribcage.

He murmurs closely to his ear, “It’s not because you were there _then_ , Tina. It’s because you were there _before_. It’s because you’re here _now_ ,” his lips brush against her own in a gentle kiss. “And I can’t believe that I actually have to tell you this,” his voice is gruff with exasperation, “because I’ve _told_ you that I love you. I’ve told you time and again. But apparently not enough. So please, forgive me. I will do my best to ensure that from now on you’ll never have to doubt my feelings for you.”

*

The next time she enters a ballroom wearing a gown she should not be able to afford on the arm of the man people think she doesn’t deserve, she leans over to him, close to his ear, and asks quietly, “Percival?”

He turns, smiling at her. “Yes, Tina?”

She worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Why do you love me?”

He stops, in the middle of the steps they’re supposed to elegantly glide down at a measured pace, raises his eyebrows for a moment, and then draws her in and kisses her soundly. He ignores both her surprised little squeak and the gasps and mutterings of the guests.

“Because you’re lovely, and you’re mine, honey,” he says as they part. “Do I need another reason?”

Tina beams at him, flushed and a little embarrassed by the public display, and shakes her head.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to brush your teeth after all that sugar!


	3. Don't make me put you over my knee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not as sexy as it sounds, sorry. Just a fun little plotbunny that insisted on being written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a line from 'The man from U.N.C.L.E' - which I don't even watch, but I saw a gif set on tumblr and the line just jumped out at me, I did watch the scene, so this is somewhat inspired by that show, I guess? I'll put a link in the End Notes. 
> 
> Same stuff as always: english is my second language, message/review with mistakes, I'll edit them out. Reviews and Kudos are appreciated and keep my muse happy.

By the time Percival had apparated them to the hotel room, Goldstein was giggling hysterically. She was covered in dust and spell residue, but unless he was completely wrong (which was quite rare) her reaction was not caused by either. 

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her a little. “Firewhiskey or Gigglewater, Goldstein?” he asked brusquely. 

She stopped giggling for a moment, staring at him with wide doe-eyes. “Are you buying me a drink, Mr. Graves?” 

A slow, flirtatious smile appeared on her face as she spoke. It reminded him of her younger sister. As she swayed towards him, he noticed that her pupils where constricted to the point where he could barely see them. Percival cursed under his breath. 

He snapped his fingers in front of her face, adding a bit of magic to enhance the sound. “Concentrate, Goldstein! What did you have to drink at the bar? Firewhiskey or gigglewater.” He’d bet a month’s pay check that it would be the latter. 

The noise seemed to work, she frowned in concentration. “Firewhiskey,” she murmured huskily, as she leaned up against him. 

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Someone must have spiked her drink. “You sure?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed, nuzzling against his neck.

He pushed her back carefully. “Then why were you giggling like a maniac just now?” 

She stared at him for a long moment, only to dissolve into laughter again. “You... you...” 

Percival rolled his eyes. Why had he thought he’d get a straight answer out of her while she was not in her right mind? “Go take a shower, clean all that dust off, Goldstein!” he ordered, with a gentle shove towards the correct door. 

She made her way towards it in a tipsy slalom that made him wonder if it might not be better to call one of the other girl aurors in to deal with her. In the doorway Goldstein paused. Still giggling, she turned back to him and said between peals of laughter, “You... _*giggle*_ are so... _*gigglesnort*_ vain.” 

He blinked. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re so… _*giggle*_ vain. The roof was coming down... _*gasp for breath*_ and you put up a shield to stop... _*giggle*_ the dust from getting... _*more gasping for breath*_ on your suit.” By the time she was done, her whole body was shaking with mirth. 

“Goldstein,” he ground out between his teeth, “Get in there and wash all the dust off, now!” 

She shook her head, defiant. “You’re suit... _*giggle*_ so vain _*gasp*_ like a... a... a grave peacock.”

Percival huffed as she succumbed to more peals of laughter. Then he waited in silence, until she finally caught on and calmed down a bit. 

“In there. Dust off. Now,” he said, eyes narrowed. 

Her shoulders began to shake again, one of her hands was pressed over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound of her laughter.

 “Don’t make me put you over my knee, Goldstein,” he muttered exasperated. 

Goldstein promptly slid down the wall, as tears of laughter streamed down her face. 

Rolling his eyes, Percival admitted defeat and sent a patronus message to Conway, asking her to come by and make sure Goldstein was okay. Sometimes you had to know when to cut your losses. Percival smirked slightly as he watched his auror curl in on herself on the carpet, still giggling. At least knowing Goldstein she’d be mortified about her behavior just as soon as whatever her drink had been spiked with was out of her system. And he’d be able to mercilessly needle her about this in the future.

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Link to aforementioned scene from 'Man from U.N.C.L.E'.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ROGP5PVgvu8) Obviously I have no idea what the subtext/relationship between these characters is, so... yeah... but, anyway.


	4. A terrible patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something I came up with in response to a tumblr headcanon/prompt about [the real Graves being a terrible patient.](https://goldgravesship.tumblr.com/post/158371491175/the-real-percival-graves-is-a-terrible-patient) You should go read it in its entirety, it's not long and it's awesome. 
> 
> Anyway one part of it was the idea that the hospital was only letting in family and that one of the other characters would have to pretend to be Graves' wife/husband. And since I'm a Goldgraves shipper... you see where this is going, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally just spent maybe an hour cranking this out, so... there may be spelling/grammar mistakes. Feel free to point them out if you find them. Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated :)

_After the events of FBawtft, Graves is found alive..._

_St. Bartholomew’s Hospital for Witches and Wizards:_

„Where is he?” Tina panted, as she skidded to a halt next to Aurors Jauncey and Lopez.

“He’s in there somewhere—,” William Jauncey began to explain, but Tina was already moving again, heading towards the nurses desk.

“WAIT!” Consuela Lopez quickly grabbed her and pulled her back by the arm. “They’re not letting anybody in,” she groused, frowning at the nurse who was busily updating a chart just around the corner.

Tina stared at her in disbelief. “What do you mean, _they’re not letting anybody in_?”

Lopez rolled her eyes. “It’s the emergency ward, Tina. Family only!”

She gaped at her. “But! But he doesn’t HAVE any family!”

“That we know of,” Jauncey muttered under his breath.

Tina clenched her eyes shut for a moment, and took a deep, slow breath. Screaming her head off would not get her into the ward to see the Director. _Think, Tina, think! What would he do if he was in this situation?_

“Give me your academy ring, Jauncey,” she blurted out suddenly. “And you, Consuela, give me that ear ring!”

Jauncey raised his eyebrows, as he took his academy ring off his finger. “What are you going to—”

Tina practically ripped it out of his hand and put it in her open palm, while drawing her wand. Lopez dropped her earring next to it and watched as she transfigured both into a fake wedding band: Silver, with an opal instead of a more classic diamond.

Lopez nodded appreciatively. “That looks almost exactly like Mr. Graves family ring… just a little less masculine.” 

Tina nodded. “There,” she smirked a little as she pushed the ring onto the correct finger of her left hand. “Now, just let me...” She trailed off as she began waving her wand at her clothes.

Jauncey whistled as her trousers became a skirt and her blouse took on a more fashionable cut and color. “You should run around dressed like that all the time, Goldstein! You’d be married in no time.”

He grunted as Lopez rammed her elbow into his ribs.

“Shut up, Jauncey! Let me help you with your hair and make-up,” she suggested, already waving her wand in front of Tina’s face.

“Thanks,” Tina smiled at her fellow auror, as her hair became much more curly and she felt the subtle tingle of the lip-reddening charm on her lips.

“All done,” Lopez announced, stepping back.

Tina tried to catch a glimpse of herself in a nearby window but the image was blurry at best. “Well,” she asked instead, looking at her colleagues.

Jauncey grinned, “Good luck! You’ll need it!”

Lopez smacked his arm, “Don’t listen to him! You look amazing. Make sure to give Mr. Graves everybody’s best wishes!”  

Tina nodded, trying to shake of the nervousness she felt. Then she drew herself up, stuck her nose high in the air and marched towards the nurses’ desk.

Jauncey smirked. “She’ll never get in!”

“Wanna bet,” Lopez asked with a broad grin. “There’s a reason the boss preferred her to any other auror, in the department!”

“Yeah,” he snorted, “but it had nothing to do with her abilities as an auror.”

Lopez narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t make me hex you again, Will!”

 

* * *

 

As she stalked towards the nurse whose head was still buried in a chart, Tina ruthlessly suppressed her nervousness. _Always remember, Goldstein, if you have enough confidence you can bluff your way into any joint_ , she heard Graves’ voice in her head. Unbidden the image of his smirk as he’d told her that appeared in front of her inner eye. He’d been so suave. _Well, he is rich, attractive and a bit of a dandy… those suits and that coat of his… and the way he strides around like a peacock… strode around…_

Reaching the desk, she plunked her purse onto the desk, ignoring the indignant gasp of the nurse. “I’m here to see Percival Graves,” she said, looking down her nose at the woman in front of her.  

“Are you a family member, Miss,” the nurse asked, icily.

Tina casually removed her spell-made gloves and dropped them on top of her purse, ensuring that her faux wedding band was clearly visible. Then she aimed a haughty look at the nurse; the same haughty look she’d gotten from dozens of high society witches herself while on the job. “Yes. I am Valentina Graves, his wife, and I demand to see my husband!” 

“I don’t know—”

“You know what I think?” Tina interrupted her, internally begging the woman’s forgiveness. “I would like your name, please, and then I would like to talk to your supervisor,” she paused for effect then she added scathingly: “Whoever that is.”

The nurse looked away from her for a moment, clearly trying to compose herself.

 _That won’t do_ , Tina thought.

 _Don’t give them time to think and see through your disguise!_ Mr. Graves’ gravelly voice, instructed in her head.

“Well?” Tina snapped at her, trying to feel outraged at the nurse’s hesitation instead of ashamed of her own behavior. “I suppose I will have to go and see _Seraphina_ before I will be allowed to see my own _husband_?”

The nurse finally caved, clearly not prepared to deal with the fallout of possibly annoying the president. “No,” she stammered, “No of course not. Just this way. If you would follow me please.”

Tina grimaced a little as she followed the woman leading her towards Mr. Graves’ room. _Ugh, how do these women live with themselves, I feel terrible. Queenie’s gonna be so angry with me when she finds out how I treated that poor nurse, tonight_.

 

* * *

 

_Down the corridor from the nurses’ desk:_

Jauncey stared in amazement as Goldstein was led away by the nurse. “I’ll be damned!”

“That’s Tina Goldstein for you!” Lopez chuckled a little and shook her head. “Cries over a cutting remark on her report but bluffs her way into the boss’s room.”

 

* * *

 

  _In Graves Room:_

Tina’s eyes teared up, as she looked down at Mr. Graves. He was pale, and half-starved. His hair hang in lanky strands much longer than usual, and he had a rather shaggy and unkempt beard. There were bruises on his face and arms, and his hands were bandaged up all the way to the wrists.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” the nurse said quietly. “Just, please, Madam Graves, try not to wake him?”

Tina waited until the door had shut behind her, then she walked slowly towards the bed and sank in the visitors’ chair next to it.  “I’m so sorry, Sir,” she whispered brokenly. “So, so sorry. I should have noticed…”

She wanted to reach out and touched him, but didn’t dare. Not only for fear of waking him up, but mostly because she didn’t know if he’d want any physical contact after everything Grindelwald had put him through.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting by his side, but when she looked up from his bandaged hands, she realized that Mr. Graves was awake.

He was staring at her with narrowed eyes, a wary look on his face that spoke of many unpleasant awakenings in his recent past. The muscles in his arms were tense, as if he was readying himself for a fight.

“Sir, I’m so sorry I—” she began, but he interrupted her.

“What happened on your first day, Goldstein?” he snapped, his voice cold and hostile.

Tina frowned, confused. “What?”

“Your first day here, Goldstein,” he demanded gruffly. “What did you do to me?”

“I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sir,” she stammered, completely taken aback. “During my first _week_ here you were at a conference in Europe.”

His eyes closed, and he released his breath in a gasp. “Tina?” When he opened them again, his eyes were suddenly bright, too bright. “It’s really you,” he whispered, weakly lifting his hand off the covers as if he was trying to touch her. “It’s really over?”

Tina swallowed around the lump in her throat, as she finally started to cry. “Yes, Sir, it’s really over,” she managed, before she muffled a sob behind her hand.  Then she finally managed to scrounge up enough courage to reach out and place a hand on his arm. She wasn’t sure how exactly it happened, but eventually she was seated on the bed, her arms wrapped firmly around him, his face hidden against her neck. Her collar felt wet. She wasn’t the only one who was crying.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she whispered into his hair, “I’m so sorry. I should have done something. I should have—”

“I’m glad you didn’t, Tina,” he interrupted her, nuzzling into her curls. “He would have killed you, if you had gotten any closer. As it was, he only demoted you, or at least he said he did.”

Tina nodded, at a loss for words. So Grindelwald had told Mr. Graves about the havoc he was wreaking at MACUSA, had he?

“Couple of weeks in the ... where did he stick you again?” Mr. Graves asked, his voice almost sounding a little cheeky.

Tina pulled back, and looked at his face. He was grinning impudently at her.

“He, um... the wand permit office... he stuck me in the wand permit office,” she grimaced with distaste.

“The wand permit office...,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Well... couple of weeks in the wand permit office and suddenly you’re more dolled up than your sister, what’s up with that?” The impudent little smirk was back. It was disconcerting to see on his unshaven face.

Tina’s eyes widened as she realized that he was referring to her disguise, and she found herself horrorstruck at the thought of explaining to him how exactly she’d managed to get into his room.

“Not that I don’t like it, it looks good,” Mr. Graves chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

One part of Tina was delighted to see that he was still capable of teasing her like that. The other part was frantically trying to find a reasonable excuse to explain away her altered looks.

“Uh...,” she stammered, not at all sure how to continue.

She was saved by a healer who chose that precise moment to briskly open the door and waltz into the room.

“I’ll just um… wait outside, okay?” Tina said, desperate to escape out of the room.

Graves nodded. “Sure. You’ll come see me again?” Surprisingly he sounded insecure, when he asked.

Seeing the incredulous look on the healer’s face at the question, Tina quickly said, “Of course I will come see you again, Si… um honey.”

She rushed out of the door before making sure that he could ask no other questions in front of the doctor.

 

 

* * *

 

Percival turned toward the healer, eyebrows raised in astonishment. “What exactly was that potion you gave me earlier?” he asked, wondering if he was having some kind of adverse reaction to some ingredient or other.

The healer looked at him, worried. “Just a standard pain potion and strengthening solution, Mr. Graves. Why? Is something the matter?”

“It’s just,” he paused, still staring at the closed door Tina had vanished though. “I could swear she just called me _honey_.”

The healer nodded, “Yes, I heard that... is that out of the ordinary?”

Percival snorted, “I should say so! Usually she just calls me _Sir_ , like everybody else.”

“Isn’t that a little old fashioned?” The doctor shot him a rather dirty look.

 “What?” Percival raised his eyebrows.

Interpreting his reaction as classic defensive male, the healer rolled his eyes a little and shook off his complaints about the upper crust, instead focusing on why he had come into the room in the first place. “Okay, Mr. Graves, I’ll start by checking your vitals and then we’ll talk about the magical depletion and how we intend to address it and after that Healer Johnson will want to see you about your mind healing sessions.”

“Mind healing sessions,” Percival growled. “Do I look like the type of man who has fucking mind healing sessions?”  

 

 

* * *

 

_Four weeks later:_

Tina wasn’t entirely sure how she had pulled it off. She had been visiting him at least once a day, since the first time she’d bluffed her way into his room. The hospital staff treated her like Mrs. Graves and called her Mrs. Graves. Hell, most of the auror department had picked it up as well, and boy did she not know how the hell she was supposed to handle that. She could only hope that when Mr. Graves eventually returned, they’d all miraculously stop and never bring it up again.

Because in spite of the aurors and the hospital staff... he _still_ hadn’t found out about what she’d done to get into his room. And, he still hadn’t seen her look her normal self. And she _knew_ she had to do something about it and soon. Because he was her boss, and he’d be back eventually, and he’d started _looking_ at her in those damn dresses and overly stylish feminine blouses, and on top of all of that, Jauncey and Lopez were by now rather impatient to get their jewelry back.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and knocked on the door to his room. _Today, Tina_ , she told herself, _today you come clean_.

“Come in!” he shouted. He sounded... disgruntled.

_Who do you think you're kidding, Tina, you'll never tell him. Not on purpose anyway._ She opened the door and cautiously walked into the room, ready to retreat if he was in a really bad mood. When she saw him, she sighed. His bed was covered in paperwork, there was a cup of coffee on the bedside table, and he was smoking.

“You’re not supposed to smoke in here, Sir,” she reprimanded him.

“Do I look like I give a fuck about that, Tina?” he asked, before promptly taking another deep drag from the roll-up.

“Sir—”

“Did you bring me the evaluation forms?”

“You’re supposed to be on sick leave,” Tina said slowly.

“How about something to eat?”

Tina blinked. “What?”

“The food in this place would violate the Geneva Convention if the wizarding world had something like that,” he griped.

He looked a lot better than he had during her first visit. His skin was less pale, his face clean shaven and hair freshly cut, and in spite of his complaint about the food he was putting on weight. On the other hand, his hands shook unpredictably with tremors that could last up to several minutes, and he occasionally had panic attacks during which he lost control enough to rattle the windows. And he was still refusing to see a mind healer.

Tina sighed and pulled a tiny paper bag from her coat pocket. She resized it and handed it over.

He stubbed out his cigarette and promptly ripped the bag open, and took a large bite out of a jelly occamy.

Tina chuckled a little when he leaned back against the pillows - freshly fluffed, as she noticed - and sighed in bliss.

“Where do you get these? They’re heavenly.”

“Kowalski’s Bakery,” Tina confessed.

Mr. Graves looked up at her. “Tina,” there was an unmistakable tone of warning in his voice.

“I know,” she whispered. “But _he_ doesn’t know, and his treats are heavenly, you just said so yourself.”

He sighed. “You didn’t bring me the evaluation forms?”

Tina nodded, glad to change the subject. Jacob’s obliviation was still a difficult topic for her, and more so for poor Queenie. “You’re not supposed to work, Sir.”

“Oh, doesn’t matter, one of the rookies will no doubt get them for me later.” He smiled smugly.

Tina opened her mouth to scold him some more, but there was a knock on the window. A screech owl was sitting on the ledge outside, several rolls of parchment tied to its leg.

“Be a doll and get that for me, will you?” he drawled, just as the door opened and his main healer walked in, chart in hand.

“Mr. Graves! For the last time you’re not supposed to work! And you, my dear,” he turned towards Tina who’d just reached outside the now open window to grab the owl, “better leave that bird right where it is. This is a hospital ward, for Merlin’s sake! It's unsanitary!”

Tina unfastened the letters, but left the bird outside as asked, grumbling when it nipped her fingers for her troubles. She closed the window and walked back to the bed to hand Mr. Graves his post. He was swallowing a greenish potion that smelled so bad Tina almost gagged.

“Ugh,” he quickly followed the potion by some coffee, “Remind me to have the rookies bring me more coffee, Tina,” he ordered.

Tina took a deep breath, preparing herself to argue against his misuse of the trainee aurors as his personal errand boys. She didn’t get a word out however.

“Did you bring me a fresh shirt and waistcoat?” Mr. Graves was already shuffling papers on his bed again, and picking up his previously forgotten occamy pastry.

“Yes, I've got them right here,” she pulled the requested items out of her purse and put them over the back rest of the visitors’ chair.

The healer, who had been on his way to the door, stopped and looked at his patient for a long moment.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Graves, you know that?” he asked.

Mr. Graves looked up, surprised. “I am?”

Tina took a step forward, hoping to interrupt before it was too late...

“Why, yes. Clearly your wife is quite devoted to your comfort,” the healer remarked, with a nod towards Tina.

She felt the heat of embarrassment rush over her, as Mr. Graves slowly turned his head and smirked at her. She tried to take a step back again, but he quickly wrapped his hand around her wrist, preventing her escape.

“You’re right, she really is,” he drawled, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

“Well, good day to you, Mr. Graves, Mrs. Graves.”

Footsteps. The sound of the door clicking shut. And then Tina was alone with Mr. Graves.

“I can explain, Sir—”

“Please do,” he said, pulling her closer with a cheeky grin, “Let’s start with the most important question: When exactly did we get married?”

“I-I...”

He yanked at her arm, and she promptly lost her balance. A second later, Tina found herself sprawled in his lap, staring wide eyed as he leaned in and kissed her squarely on the mouth. She hesitated, but the gentle touch of his lips on her own finally coaxed her into relaxing against him and enjoying the caress.

“I’m kidding, Tina,” he murmured when he finally ended the kiss.

“They wouldn’t allow anybody in, only family,” she told him, “so I got all _dolled up_ and told them I was your wife.”

He raised his eyebrow, “You successfully bluffed your way into the emergency ward? Well done, Goldstein!”

Tina grinned at him. “Thanks, Sir.”

“Percival,” he quipped.

“What?”

Mr. Graves rolled his eyes. “We’re married, honey. I may be old fashioned but not enough to make my wife call me _Sir_!”

With that he tangled a hand in her overly-curly hair and kissed her again. 

When one of the rookies walked into the room a couple of hours later, he found Director Graves wrapped around Auror Goldstein. Both of them were fast asleep.

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so 'Valentina' Graves, because I imagine Porpentina Goldstein's name would probably be all over the MACUSA rumor mill and she didn't want to get caught based on her sudden 'helped that British guy capture Grindelwald' fame. 
> 
> Less of the horrible patient headcanon, than I wanted, I'm afraid, perhaps I'll edit it eventually? I don't know.


	5. Concentration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> „Concentrate, Goldstein.“ 
> 
> The reminder comes as a low murmur close to her ear. Director Graves is standing right behind her, so close she can feel his body heat seep through her clothes and into her skin. 
> 
> That doesn’t make concentrating any easier, Tina thinks to herself with an internal groan of frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically an apology for the completely sucky drabble I uploaded earlier (which is in all honesty a sort of place holder in case I ever get off my butt and start writing that multi-chapter HP fic I'll probably never write but that really should have it's publication date as today in case I ever do XP).
> 
> Same thing as always applies: English is my second language, feel free to point out mistakes, I'll edit them out :)

 

„Concentrate, Goldstein.“

The reminder comes as a low murmur close to her ear. Director Graves is standing right behind her, so close she can feel his body heat seep through her clothes and into her skin.

 _That doesn’t make concentrating any easier_ , Tina thinks to herself with an internal groan of frustration.

“Concentrate. Feel the flow of your magic in your body...”

She wishes he’d stop murmuring like that. His voice, always a little husky, is particularly arousing when he keeps the volume low. He probably thinks, he’s helping her by talking like that... but it might actually be easier if he were barking orders at her. And if he just kept a few fucking feet away.

“Are you even trying, Goldstein? Because _I_ can feel your magic, and right now it’s going every which way. It’s like you’re completely unfocused and your magical energy is a leaf in a fucking hurricane,” he growls, sounding just about as frustrated as she feels.

“I am trying, Sir,” she huffs, and opens her eyes, “I just... I don’t think I can do this, Sir.”

She turns around as she says it, making sure to step away from him first, so she doesn’t accidentally brush up against his chest.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, and Tina feels bad wondering if she’s given him a headache. Then he lowers his hand, placing it on her shoulder, and looks at her with a slight frown. After a moment of silence, he says, “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you think you can’t do this?”

Tina’s mouth drops open, “ _Why do I think_... Why the hell do _you_ think that I _can_?” She shouts, belatedly realizing how insolent her words sound, so she adds a quiet “With all due respect, Sir” even though she’s pretty sure it won’t do her any good if he’s already pissed off at her.

Graves sighs, brows drawn together in a worried frown. “Goldstein, just tell me why you believe you can’t do this,” he orders.

“I...,” she pauses. She knows exactly why she can’t of course. She’s confused about why he’s making her say it. It’s not like him to humiliate her like that. “I’m not as powerful as you are, Sir,” she finally says, dejectedly hanging her head.

“It’s not about power, Tina,” he says gently, giving her shoulder a slight shake that makes her look up at him, “It’s about control, it’s about discipline and restraint far more than about power. And you are restrained, you are disciplined, your magic is beautifully controlled. Which is why I think you _can_ in fact do it.”

She looks away for a moment, processing his words. “If that’s the case then why isn’t everybody using wandless magic?” she asks petulantly.

He smirks. “Goldstein? Are you fishing for compliments?”

“Wha—“

“Because most people aren’t that disciplined. They have barely enough control to perform magic while using their wands,” Graves explains patiently. “Remember first year classes at Ilvermorny. How many of your classmates were able to perform a new spell correctly at first try?” He waits for a second, giving her time to recall. “Now think of your advanced classes during your last year at school. How many of your classmates could _still_ perform a new spell the first time they cast it? I’ll bet an entire month’s wages that there were less than five students in each class who could.”

Tina nods slowly. “More like, maybe two or three per class,” she admits, stunned.

“And you were one of those students. In transfiguration, and in charms, and in defense at least.”

She nods again. “Yes.”

“And that,” he says triumphantly, “is why I’m being such a hard-ass about this.” He spins her around, runs his hand over her arm, until he reaches her hand, and gently lifts it so her palm is pointing away from both of them. “Concentrate.”

Tina rolls her eyes.

“And close your eyes, Goldstein!”

“Yes, Sir.”

 

The end.


	6. This made me think of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying on a bed of black velvet was a gold pendant on a plain gold chain.
> 
> Her hand reached for her own pendant... and touched only the coarse material of her second-hand blouse. Tina closed her eyes, pained by the thought of the blasting curse that had destroyed the one memento of her mother she always carried around with her. She had lost it several weeks ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little Goldgraves drabble I wrote ages ago, didn't know how to finish and then just allowed to rot on my hard drive until I finally decided to end it anyhow and publish it. It does feature Consuela and Will from the "Graves as a terrible patient" chapter. 
> 
> As always: English is my second language, feel free to point out spelling or grammar mistakes if you find them.

Tina walked into the office late in the evening after a long day trying to track down a thief robbing no-maj stores. When she reached her desk, she dropped her coat over her chair and sighed as she looked at the piles of paperwork that had accumulated in her absence.

She loved being out on cases, talking to witnesses, tracking magical signatures, dismantling the wards around a suspect’s living place... and nothing could hold a candle to the rush of apprehending the suspect and bringing them in, especially after a long chase. What she didn’t love was the sheer amount of forms, memos and reports all her favorite parts of the job generated.

“It’s like they breed,” she huffed, as she sank into her chair, and picked up a file that teetered precariously at the top of her in-tray.

Below the file, she discovered a small black box. Frowning she picked it up and pulled out her wand. A quick series of flicks and swirls revealed no obvious enchantments or curses on it, so she carefully lifted the lid.

Lying on a bed of black velvet was a gold pendant on a plain gold chain.

Her hand reached for her own pendant... and touched only the coarse material of her second-hand blouse. Tina closed her eyes, pained by the thought of the blasting curse that had destroyed the one memento of her mother she always carried around with her. She had lost it several weeks ago.

She carefully took the gold pendant from the box and looked more closely at it. The shape was similar to her old one, but it was clearly more expensive. The metal was smooth to the touch and so polished it reflected blurry images of herself and the room back at her. The edge of the oval was surrounded by an intricate pattern of leaves and flowers, a small crown hovered over an ornate carving of the letters ‘PG’.

Tina carefully wrapped the chain around her fingers. It was plain but well made, tiny links holding it together. She opened the pendant and blinked, surprised by a small folded piece of parchment stuck between the shell-like sides of the locket. She opened the note and read a single sentence in Director Graves’ neat, angular handwriting.

_This made me think of you._

She flushed slightly, tracing the words with her index finger. There was an odd fluttering feeling in her stomach at the thought that Mr. Graves had seen this somewhere and spent his time and money just to make her happy. She carefully pulled the chain over her head. She could feel the slight scratch of the metal links against her neck and the weight of the pendant brushing lightly against the fabric of her blouse. It wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be. But it was ... nice. Familiar. It felt good where it was.

***

The next morning Tina was pouring herself a cup of coffee when the Director walked into the break room, closely followed by Lopez and Jauncey.

“Morning, Goldstein,” Graves addressed her, then immediately turned back to Jauncey before Tina could say anything in reply, “So what you’re telling me is that even though there was plenty of reason to believe the _culprit_ was guilty the _authorities_ didn’t intervene?”

“Nope,” Jauncey grinned. “The referee let him fly right on and score two more goals, then blew the whistle when one of the Jersey Jobberknolls fouled him back by hitting him over the head with a beater’s bat. The game didn’t end until...”

“Hey, Goldstein?” Lopez interrupted him.

“Yes?” Tina asked looking up from a selection of doughnuts she had been contemplating.

“That pendant. Was that what was in the mystery box on your desk? You did check for curses and the like, right?” Her fellow auror stepped forward and was already pulling her wand out.

Tina rolled her eyes a little, “Of course I checked it for curses. I’m not stupid, you know. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Who was it from?” Jauncey inquired curiously.

“Uh...,” Tina stalled, not entirely sure what to say to that. On the one hand everybody in the department knew that she had recently lost her family heirloom and having it replaced could certainly be seen as the kind gesture of a mentor. On the other hand...

“Oh, Goldstein,” Jauncey crooned, picking up on her hesitation, “Do you have a boyfriend you’re not telling us about?”

Tina felt the heat of a blush rise up her neck and into her cheeks.

“No, no, no! I bet it’s a secret admirer,” Lopez giggled in a decidedly girly fashion, thoroughly at odds with her usual frank, somewhat boyish auror-personality. “Someone who noticed her old one was missing and who was too shy to approach her more directly.”

“And who can blame them,” Graves suddenly drawled, an amused smirk on his face, “between your constant flirting,” he shot a warning look at Jauncey for a second, “and that Scamander-Fellow’s antics, getting Tina’s attention seems like a herculean task.”

Lopez snorted. “Jauncey flirts with everybody, and Tina here doesn’t care one bit for him. As for the Englishman... well, a little birdie told _me_ that he’s quite enamored with that Barebone boy.” She waggled her eyebrows at Tina, indicating her as the source of this piece of information.

“Really?” Graves asked, intrigued, at the same moment as Jauncey blurted out: “Yes, she does!”

Tina rolled her eyes and picked up her cup of coffee before heading back towards her desk. “Yes, really,” she said to Mr. Graves. She was feeling both embarrassed and pleased, and was wondering if there was any real feeling hiding behind his mock-complaint. “As for you, Jauncey, I happen to agree with Consuela!”

She walked out of the break room, with a little extra skip to her steps and a sly smile on her face. She was really quite happy with herself for that last comment. After all it could imply either, that she didn’t care one bit for Jauncey or – more importantly – that she believed the pendant to be a gift from a secret admirer. If the director had meant it as a friend or mentor or something, he’d clear up the misunderstanding in his usual tactful manner... and if not... well, if not then Tina had all the more reason to smile. Sliding into her desk chair, she picked up the first file on top of a towering mountain to her right, no longer daunted by the paperwork.

The end


End file.
